| | i th| |ink i| | so i| | thou| |ght i| | so | |
|but| | lo| |ck | |to | |loc| |k w| |ith|
| | wond| |rous | |wonde| |rs, here in the shallow bogs
| | | of| | time, where the unthoughtsink
|int| |o the settling mud
|in the sh|ade of paperbarks
| |
| and|the|board|s|of|my |house |creak |
| .in afternoon coolness anticipation of night|
.locks of wind curling against the sheets |
|
|
|mice scurry like leaves
flap |buffeted, birds chirrup
|hiding among new green
|clothes, millions of
|tiny shirts drying
| |in the wind
| |
|my mind is the air|
|empty. softly rolling.
|the air is perfect sound of oneness, ease,
|a gust which carries away every speck of dust
|
|
|
|
| |
| |
home smells like trees, little babbling brooks,
| |
| | a warm class G star blotting out the budding sky,
| |
| | a hand to shade, a communion of restful shadows
| | among these ancient-order slowliving earth-sky
| |
| | pipes. yea, we got some religion from the trees
| |
| | who first worshipped light, who first tilled land,
|
| who have seen the passing of so many leaves, and
|
yet remain